It’s easier than I thought to get Jared to agree to do the dinner at his place. The same day we discuss it, Tabby calls him to ask if we can use his house and he immediately agrees.

It’s almost too easy. I don’t have to butter him up at all.

And we don’t even have to cook because the Hamptons graciously agree to have the dinner catered.

How generous.

Although I have to admit, it is helpful in getting the dinner party organized quickly, since time is of the essence. There are only two more days until the gala, and the donors for the silent auction are one of the most important parts of the night. It’s the last thing to be sorted out and poor Eleanor is beside herself with anxiety over the whole thing. I’m suffering from the same affliction. This is my one opportunity to get something to use against the parents.

I hate the thought of leaving the parents to their own devices with Jared, but what else can I do? I watch them drive to Jared’s on the tracking device, and I wait until I know they’re there before I call him.

“Hey, I’m going to miss dinner tonight.”

“What’s going on?”

“Paige is sick.” I already told her to stay home and out of sight for a day or two.

“Do you need me to bring you anything?”

“No, she’s just got a cold. Fever. You know, kids are resilient. She’ll probably be better by tomorrow but I don’t want to leave her. Tell Tabby and Eleanor I’m really sorry. I know you guys will be able to handle it without me, though.”

“It will be hard but I guess we’ll survive.”

“Call me when everyone leaves?”

“Of course.”

We hang up.

I pack a small bag of essentials, then ride Paige’s new bike to where the parents are staying.

Instead of being sneaky and dressed in black, I park right on the side of the driveway and walk up like I belong here.

I know this town. Neighbors in these kinds of residential areas are nosy and suspicious. If I act like I’m supposed to be here, they’ll think it’s true. Plus everyone already thinks I’m their niece. If I go slinking around and someone spots me, no doubt there will be yet another ninja story. I can’t afford to attract any more suspicion.

It doesn’t take long to jimmy the lock with my kit and then I’m in. I head upstairs to the office, to where I saw the safe the last time I was here.

Even without clicking on the lights, I can tell it’s not here. I check under the desk, in the small closet that’s also in the office, and nothing.

Then I double-check all the rooms upstairs, looking under the beds in each one. Nothing. The safe is small, but not small enough to hide in a drawer or something. I check out the downstairs, every closet I can find, the garage, anywhere else I can think of.

It’s not here.

There’s only one other possible place they could be keeping it.

In their car.

Which is at Jared’s, where I just called and made excuses not to be.

Dammit.

After making sure I’ve left everything as it was, I leave the house and lock the front door on my way out.

It takes forty-five minutes to bike to Jared’s. My legs are burning by the time I get there. I park on the main road and head in, walking near his driveway but in the woods, somewhat sheltered from view by the trees and bushes.

By the time I reach Jared’s driveway, it’s full dark. The lights are on in his house, and voices spills out from the backyard.

The parents’ car is near the front, close to the house.

I peer inside the window. It’s unlocked.

How could they be so careless? They have been acting more and more out of character. Sloppy, even.

Letting out a breath, I peer into the back seat—it’s not there. I open the driver-side door and pop the trunk.

Got it.

It’s heavy, but I manage to pull it out and put it on the ground before gently shutting the trunk. Then I carry it into the nearest part of the woods, walking far enough away that the glow from the flashlight will be somewhat shielded from the house. I put the safe down and drop to a comfortable seat in front of it.

I put the flashlight on the ground, aimed at the safe, and then pull out the rare-earth magnet, which I have wrapped in a sock.

I place the magnet to the left and just above the keypad lock and jerk on the handle of the safe. It takes less than five seconds.

The lock pops open with a satisfying click and I slowly pull the lid open.

There’s a bound stack of bills and a few jewelry cases. Underneath, two manila envelopes, one thicker than the next. I was sort of expecting something like Blackbeard’s treasure or maybe human skulls. I don’t know, something more nefarious.

Heart thumping, I pick up the flashlight in one hand and one of the envelopes in the other.

In the first envelope, the thinner of the two, there’s a birth certificate for an Andrea Winchester. The parents are listed as Mary and John Winchester. The birthdate is January fifth, thirteen years ago.

I put it to the side and open up the second, thicker envelope. Court documents. Some kind of trust. I scan the pages of legal jargon until I reach the name of the beneficiary. Andrea Winchester. I flip to the back of the documents, searching for a list of items held in trust. It’s pages and pages of bank accounts, properties, vehicles . . . Skimming back through the document, I find a section stating that the money and items listed will become available to Andrea Winchester when she reaches her majority, age eighteen.

As the voices and laughter at Jared’s filter through the forest, my heart beats a fast tattoo in my chest. I can’t push for more time. What I’ve found is enough for now. It has to be. Hurriedly, I stuff the items back in the safe and then carry it back to their car. I place it back in the exact spot I found it and then shut the trunk.

Racing back to the bike, only one thought thumps through my mind.

Paige isn’t my sister.